


Unfamiliar Things

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-01
Updated: 2006-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lack of subtlety was another family trait--Justin's mom hadn't bothered saying much beyond, "Go help Momma," just like a hundred hot mornings before, but Justin heard the <i>Take your pathetic, whiny self out of my house</i> loud and clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfamiliar Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2006 "A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words" Challenge.

There was never any doubt where Justin got his stubbornness from, but there were days when he really hated dealing with the source. He'd offered, more than once, to put in an underground sprinkler system at his grandparents', but the answer was always, nobody needed to be digging anywhere near Miss Sadie's prize camellias. No sir, and thank you very much.

Lack of subtlety was another family trait--his mom hadn't bothered saying much beyond, "Go help Momma," just like a hundred hot mornings before, but Justin heard the, "Take your pathetic, whiny self out of my house," loud and clear.

His grandmother promised him breakfast as she came to the door to kiss him, but she wasn't particularly subtle either. Justin wasn't sure biscuits and gravy made up for the attitude.

It took only a few minutes to drag the sprinklers across the grass, their hoses snaking along behind him, but they wouldn't reach the outer flower beds. Someone had to fill the fifty-year-old watering cans and lug them across the two-acre lawn so the glads and lilies and pinks that'd been flowering for longer than Justin had been alive would make it through another Memphis August.

Eying the spraying water, Justin stripped off his shirt, tossing it on the porch swing so it wouldn't get soaked before he set to filling the galvanized tin watering cans from the old pump out back.

In all honesty, he'd been crappy company since he'd arrived; not wanting to see anyone or go anywhere, which pretty much defeated the purpose of rearranging his schedule to be home for the family reunion.

He was being stupid; he could admit that. He was an adult, in a mature relationship. Just because it hadn't quite gone the direction he wanted was no reason to … fucking _moon_ about it. He needed to get his act the hell together. He'd finish this and eat; then go for a run.

He made three trips back and forth, plotting the best route for his run, managing to miss that he wasn't alone, until he turned around and almost tripped over Chris.

"uh, hey," Justin stuttered, because Chris was in Florida, had very emphatically declined Justin's invitation.

"Hey?" Chris rolled his eyes. "Answer your fucking phone occasionally."

"I'm on vacation," Justin muttered.

"The last time I was calling you about work was... hell, never. That's what Johnny's for and when I looked in the mirror this morning, I was still six inches too short and the wrong skin color to be the man."

Justin walked back to the pump, shrugging.

"Nice outfit," Chris drawled, following behind. "Don't we own this flick?" He jumped back as Justin pumped a little harder than was strictly necessary and sent water gushing.

"Justin? Don't forget my begonias." His grandmother's interruption was timed too perfectly for her not to be watching. "You boys best hurry; your granddaddy's ready to say the blessing."

Justin waved to her, shoving one of the cans at Chris with his foot. "C'mon, cold grits suck."

"Like hot grits don't?" Chris fell into step as Justin criss-crossed the lawn, dodging the sprinklers. "So, it, uh, occurred to me that I might have missed the point of your invitation last week."

Justin stopped at the last flower bed. "It occurred to you?"

"Or JC might have administered a verbal bitchslap or two about it."

Justin watched the water from the can he carried soak into the rich, dark soil, counting silently so that each plant got the same amount. "Y'know," he said, slowly. "I'm not sure I want something that needs C running interference to keep it on track."

Chris half-laughed. "Yeah, well, then try saying shit up front."

"Because that'll work so well," Justin snapped. "Because I haven't tried to have that conversation a hundred times and--"

"A hundred times when you were on the rebound or bored or just too fucking lazy to go flash the smile and have whoever you wanted falling in your lap?"

"I wanted _you_, moron," Justin snarled. "Is that up-front enough?"

Chris took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "J--"

"Yeah. Got it." Justin bit his words off as neat and clean as he could. "Figured it out right about the time you started laughing at me last week."

"Jesus, give it a rest."

Justin closed his eyes, counting to ten, twenty, fifty; grinding his teeth so hard they ached. He knew better, knew this thing between them wasn't ever going to be anything other than what it was.

When he opened his eyes, the last few begonias were soggy, but he was done. If he doubled the mileage on his run, he could start beating the disappointment out of his system.

"I don't do the reunion thing," Chris said. "That's all I meant."

"What _do_ you do?"

"The obvious answer, pretty boy, is _you_." Chris paused, but Justin really wasn't in the mood. "Just trying to break the tension; sue me."

"Don't need the money, thanks." Justin started back toward the house. "You got a real answer?"

"Straight up?"

Justin nodded.

"You." Chris shrugged. "But if you're gonna stand there half-naked and wet, you know I gotta supply the cheesy porn dialog."

Justin snorted, but Chris said, "I'm here." He stopped as they reached the porch, the rich, sharp smell of red-eye gravy welcoming them. "You good with that?"

Justin pulled his shirt over his head; hiding behind the thin cotton to gather his courage. "Yeah, I'm good," he said, then went for it. "Not rebounding, not bored, not lazy. You good with that?"

"Yeah," Chris answered, smiling. Justin grinned, and he added, "Just don't lose the smile before we get inside. People were not happy with me in there--that crochet hook of your grandmother's scares the shit out of me. My lungs like living inside my skin."

"Sure," Justin laughed, opening the screen door and kissing his grandmother. "I can do that."


End file.
